


i can’t be responsible if i get you in trouble now

by AuroraWest



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Public Hand Jobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:33:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuroraWest/pseuds/AuroraWest
Summary: Attending a gala with Stephen had seemed amusing when Loki agreed to it. Now that he's actually there, though, he realizes how misguided that was.Or, Loki finds out that Stephen likes it when he's angry.
Relationships: Loki/Stephen Strange
Comments: 8
Kudos: 120
Collections: MHEA Harlequin Hoopla Prompt Challenge 2020





	i can’t be responsible if i get you in trouble now

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Marvel HEA's Harlequin Hoopla, presents prompt for February 13: balcony sex.
> 
> Title from Zara Larsson's 'Ain't My Fault.'

Loki sipped at his drink, his shoulder blades braced against the wall behind him, as he watched gala guests walk by. There was a certain level of dissonance in his own head (not unusual for him), since being at a white-tie gala couldn’t help but remind him of Stuttgart all those years ago. This was different, though. Different decade, different situation. Different company. Different suit, too.

His thumb rubbed across the bottom of the wine glass as he lowered his hand. On the other side of the foyer, a woman he didn’t know caught his eyes and smiled. Ah. A dilemma. Should he return the smile? The attention of beautiful people was always flattering. But she might take it as an invitation and he wasn’t interested in playing that game tonight, not least because he wasn’t here alone.

Well, why _would_ he be here alone? The annual awards gala for the International Association of Neurological Surgeons wasn’t exactly his scene. Attending had seemed amusing when the idea had first been floated to him, but now that he was actually here, he regretted coming. He’d discovered during his years on Earth that he didn’t really like the medical profession—didn’t like hospitals, didn’t like doctors (one or two exceptions aside). Even removed from their place of work, he still didn’t care for them. He kept hearing snatches of conversation and it only served to remind him that he was a curiosity to these people. Given half the chance, they would cut his brain open to see what made him work, and they’d send the leftovers to their colleagues specializing in other body parts.

Oh, shit. The woman was approaching him. He looked out over the crowd, searching for his date to this infernal event, to no avail. Stifling a sigh, Loki smiled politely as the woman reached his side.

“Hi,” she said.

The smile he gave her was _just_ on this side of cordial. “Hello,” he replied.

She’d chosen to stand too close to him. He knew he looked good, but truly, he didn’t want the attention of others tonight. His cool smile did nothing to deter her, though. Holding out a hand, she said, “Doctor Meredith Jackson. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at one of these.”

“That doesn’t surprise me, seeing as I’ve never been to one of these,” he replied, the smile still frozen in place.

“Mm, a first-timer,” Doctor Jackson said, sidling closer. Her dress gave him an excellent view of her cleavage, which was—well, excellent, but he averted his eyes. “What department are you with?”

His smile got slightly sharper and he held out a hand. “None. I’m Loki Odinson, Prince of Asgard, and I believe you know my date, as he’s one of the honorees tonight.”

Her hand, which she’d been extending to shake his, drew back, and her fingers curled into a loose fist.

And then, salvation. “Christ—sorry, Loki, I got trapped by Cowle, what an insufferable bore, he’s been talking about that embolization technique he invented for the past thirty years, which would be boring enough for a normal person but with a photographic memory—” Stephen Strange’s hand ghosted across the small of Loki’s back and he held out a plate with the other. “Here, I brought you this, it’s prosciutto-wrapped pears.”

Loki’s smile widened fractionally and he raised an eyebrow at Doctor Jackson. “As I said.”

Her smile had lost all warmth and she said, “Doctor Strange. We’ve never met but of course I’m aware of your…achievements.” Her eyes flicked down to his trembling hands and she said, “Mr. Odinson,” before walking away, her heels clicking on the marble floor.

Stephen took one of the prosciutto-wrapped pears off the plate and popped it in his mouth. “If I was interrupting a little flirtation there, you can go after her.”

“Shut up,” Loki said, taking the plate. “I thought these were for me?” He ate one of the pears and asked, “How long do we have to stay here?”

Rolling his eyes, Stephen said, “I mean, it’s usually good form to stay long enough to receive the award you’re being presented with.”

“Yes, yes, I’m very proud of you,” Loki said. “Such an honor, et cetera, ad nauseum.”

With an overly dramatic wince, Stephen said, “Right words. Sort of. It was just missing literally _all_ the effort.” When Loki gave him an exasperated look, he chuckled and said, “Let’s find Christine, she hates these things too. You two can commiserate.”

Loki swallowed a mouthful of wine and replied, “I doubt that, considering the procedure the two of you invented together is what earned you this award?”

Waving a hand, Stephen said, “No. She’ll still be having a miserable time. She hates the fake smiling and the smalltalk.”

“You’re right, we _will_ be able to commiserate,” Loki said, a smile twitching at his mouth. He dumped the now empty plate in a nearby garbage can, then slipped his hand into the crook of Stephen’s arm.

Stephen covered Loki’s hand with his and said, “Have I told you that you look amazing tonight, by the way?”

“A couple times. You can tell me again.” With an ever-so-slightly crooked smile, Loki said, “I know I do, by the way.” He leaned closer to Stephen and murmured in his ear, “As do you, my dear doctor.” This was true. Undeniably so. Loki wanted nothing more than to press up against him in his tux (almost as well cut as Loki’s suit…almost) and run his fingers through his hair. The little piece at the front that flopped over his forehead was gelled into place tonight and it was deeply tempting to loosen it. Loki loved that stupid piece of hair.

With a glance at Loki, Stephen said, “Goes without saying.”

The two of them made their way across the foyer into the ballroom where tables were laid for the award presentation in a few minutes. “Explain this procedure to me again,” Loki said as they started towards their table.

“It’s a laminectomy technique,” Stephen said. “The Palmer Technique. Christine and I invented it in 2016.” Shocking that he hadn’t insisted that his own name be on it, but Loki supposed that was the kind of gesture one made post-life-altering accident. In a lower tone, he added, “It only took the IANS twenty-two years to recognize how revolutionary it is.”

“And just think,” Loki said, raising his eyebrows. “You haven’t contributed anything to the field since.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“One of my best qualities.” Loki flashed a grin at Stephen and gave him a quick kiss.

Stephen’s grip tightened over Loki’s fingers and he said, “Anyway, it’s a surgery to relieve pressure on the spinal cord, but the technique we pioneered—”

“Stephen?” a voice said. The two of them turned to see a man who Loki didn’t know. Well, obviously. One of Strange’s doctor friends, presumably. Or, well, not friends. The only person from his old life that Stephen ever spoke to—or about, for that matter—was Christine. It was hard to avoid the sense that Stephen hadn’t exactly had many friends prior to becoming a Master of the Mystic Arts. Which was a feeling Loki understood, since he hadn’t exactly had any friends until somewhat recently, either.

Then again, there weren’t many people who would pretend to be Loki’s friend when they weren’t. There was something to be said for that. He was already bored by these people with their overly wide smiles and thinly veiled glances at Stephen’s hands. It was clear that they’d never liked him and while that was, perhaps, somewhat understandable, it didn’t mean Loki had to enjoy watching it.

“Gary,” Stephen said, sounding less than thrilled.

The man ate a prawn off his plate and said, “I haven’t seen you since your accident. You look pretty good, considering.” His eyes dropped to Stephen’s hands for one very obvious moment.

“Uh huh,” Stephen said. “Nice of you to say.”

“So how the avenging going?” the man asked.

Stephen’s forehead tightened just a little. “Oh, I wouldn’t call myself an Avenger,” he said. “I just work with them occasionally.” He glanced at Loki and said, “This is Gary Howe, we worked together at Metro-General.” After hesitating, he added, “Gary, my boyfriend, Loki.”

Were Loki not prickling at Howe’s tone already, he would have hissed at Stephen not to refer to him as his ‘boyfriend,’ which he despised. It may have been accurate, but it made him sound as though he was in his mid 700s.

Howe glanced between them. “He’s so… _young_ , Stephen. And you’re… _not_.”

Looking like he was trying not to laugh, Stephen said, “Yeah, well, it happens. Can’t control time, right?”

“And didn’t you use up all your money trying to fix your hands?”

The implication of this was veiled, but clear enough to Loki. His eyes narrowed and he felt anger coil in his stomach. Who did this human think he was? Who did _any_ of these people think they were, with their catty remarks and their petty, snide little glances? Stephen Strange had been a better doctor than all of them, Loki was quite sure, and now he was the Sorcerer Supreme. He’d saved this planet and this reality more times than any of them could count. He’d seen fourteen million futures, he’d sacrificed an Infinity Stone and his life for all of them.

The daggers on his arms suddenly seemed very heavy, but before he could summon them to his hands, Stephen’s fingers clamped around one of his forearms. Loki glared at him, whirled, and stalked away. Rage was boiling in his head and it was all he could do not to use his limited telekinesis to throw people from his path. If he’d been allowed to stab that insufferable man, that would have gone a long way towards cooling his fury. It would have been somewhere non-fatal. It just would have _hurt_.

He flung a set of French doors open with a blast of magic, not caring who saw him use it, and found himself on a balcony. Cool, damp air hit him in the face, and he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. It didn’t help. If anything it made him angrier, because _he_ was out here, and that unwashed cretin down there was probably shoving more prawns down his gullet.

He stood still, chest heaving in fury, fists clenched till his fingers were bloodless, and then a voice behind him said, “Hey.”

Loki grit his teeth and curled his fingers tighter, until his fingernails were digging into his palms. “Shouldn’t you be sitting down? The ceremony starts soon,” he snapped.

“Well,” Stephen said, “I have to make sure you don’t mortally wound anyone. Your brother would never forgive me if I let you get arrested.”

Hissing through his teeth, Loki turned around to face Stephen, who was leaning against the wall of the building, his arms crossed over his chest. “Why did you stand there and listen to that?” he snarled.

Stephen’s brow crinkled. “Howe? He was a jealous idiot twenty years ago and he still is. He’s not worth my time.”

“He _insulted_ you,” Loki said.

“Yeah, and I know for a fact he didn’t get any of my patients after I stopped practicing, because he’s a mediocre surgeon with no imagination. People like that don’t offend me.” Stephen shrugged. “They bore me.”

“ _Why?_ What do you mean, they _bore_ you? Did you not hear what he implied?”

Dryly, Stephen said, “Yep. It’s just my hands that don’t work right, remember? Nothing wrong with my hearing.”

“So you see _no_ problem with letting that—that—self-important arsehole talk to you that way?” Loki demanded. “You _know_ who you are! You know what you’ve done for this stupid planet! They would _all_ be dead if not for you!”

Stephen was staring at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say this many nice things in a row about my magic,” he said. “Usually you’re just insulting it.”

“That’s _me_ ,” Loki snapped. “ _I_ can say those things, but no one else can.” Was this not obvious? Loki loved him, that gave him certain rights. “Yet you let them _belittle_ you—and belittle _me,_ by the way, as though you’re a washed-up failure and I’m some sort of—of cheap _escort._ Half of these people here tonight have treated you like a _has-been_ , and it’s—”

Stephen took two steps forward and grabbed his face, then kissed him fiercely, his tongue parting Loki’s lips and sliding into his mouth. Loki made a surprised noise as something ignited in his chest, sliding down his body and settling in his stomach to burn. His hands hooked into Stephen’s lapels and he pulled him closer, kissing him back.

After a moment, Stephen pulled away and said, “God, it’s hot when you get angry.”

“It is?” Loki asked, genuinely surprised by this revelation.

“Yeah, especially when it’s not at me.” Stephen kissed him again, turning him around and shoving Loki against the wall. The stone was cold at his back, but Stephen’s body felt blazing pressed against him. “Don’t get me wrong,” Stephen added between bruising kisses, “it kind of turns me on when you’re mad at me, too.”

“This explains so much,” Loki said—or tried to say, really, since Stephen was kissing him again, his fingers twisting in Loki’s hair and pulling. Little spirals of pain and heat trickled through him and all he could do was moan softly as the burn in his stomach got hotter and moved lower. He could feel himself getting hard, and Stephen’s stiff cock was already pressing into him.

And not that he’d really been trying to control his own erection, but the feeling of Stephen’s made all consideration of doing so leave his head.

Stephen nipped at Loki’s lower lip and sucked on his tongue, his breath hot, his hips grinding. Loki was pinned, trapped against the wall (not really; he was very strong, but there was something about relinquishing control to Stephen that got him hot) and fuck, what he really wanted—well, _that_ was what he really wanted, was to fuck, to take a moment to admire how good Stephen looked in a tux and then to tear all of it off and ride him, but—

But they were at this idiotic gala. And Stephen had the presence of mind to remember this too, because he let out a long, strangled sigh of frustration and said, “We should go in and sit down.”

“I beg your pardon,” Loki growled. He grabbed Stephen’s wrist and guided his hand to the front of his pants, where his dick was straining at the seams. “You can’t possibly expect me to go back in there after _this_ little performance?” He kissed Stephen, murmuring into his lips, “Let’s just go. Your place, my place, I don’t care.”

There was a long, considering silence, and Loki actually thought he might have won this one. But then, Stephen sighed and said, “I can’t leave Christine to accept by herself.” Loki nearly cried. It was everything he could do not to push his cock into Stephen’s hand, which was still cupped around it. Stephen fingers began stroking Loki through the fabric and he said, “We have a few minutes, though.”

At this, Loki made a noise deep in his throat and kissed Strange hard, a messy, mostly tongue kiss that made sweat suddenly bead his forehead. His pants opened and were pushed halfway down over his hips, and he only really knew that his underwear had followed suit by the feeling of cool air hitting his cock, which was throbbing and swollen and fuck fuck _fuck_ Stephen wrapped his hand around it, pumping and squeezing, his thumb circling the head, then ghosting across the slit. Fluid smeared and Stephen rubbed just _slightly_ harder circles into the head of Loki’s dick, making him gasp.

He was on fire, every nerve in his body was on fire, and he had never understood how Stephen Strange could do this to him.

Stephen’s thumb pushed into the slit of Loki’s cock again, smearing more fluid, covering the head and painting it down the sides, and Loki moaned shamelessly. As his hand grasped the shaft again, the moan turned into a whine, and his hips bucked as he pushed into Stephen’s grip.

His hands needed something to do, he needed to feel cock in his palm. In a few seconds he’d undone Stephen’s pants, pushed them down, and then pulled his dick out. It was rock hard, hot, leaking fluid, and Stephen groaned and began fucking Loki’s hand. And honestly it made Loki want to take him in his mouth so he could get fucked down his throat, for Stephen to come and fill him up with it or oh—better yet, if he just took Loki against this wall, held him up and Loki would wrap his legs around him and let Stephen pound him. The lube was in his pocket dimension, and he’d already been anticipating sex tonight, so saying he was _ready_ was…well, an understatement.

He knew that he was so slick and open that Stephen would slide in like his arse had been made to take his cock.

Except there was no way they had time for that. Which felt, at the moment, like the greatest disappointment of Loki’s entire life.

After a few more thrusts into Loki’s palm, Stephen pulled back, giving Loki no choice but to let go. He made a noise of protest, but Stephen sucked at his neck and breathed, “This will be better, trust me.”

And then—oh. _Oh._ It _was_ better. Stephen pushed his hips into Loki’s and their dicks smacked into each other with the slap of flesh on flesh, and it was quite possibly the filthiest sound he’d ever heard. And then Stephen’s hand closed around both their cocks, pushing them together as he pumped up and down.

“See?” Stephen said, kissing Loki’s throat as he tilted his head back against the wall and groaned. “What did I tell you?” His hand was moving slowly and Loki was probably imagining it but he thought he could feel Stephen’s pulse in his dick. Loki could certainly feel his own, throbbing as the heads of their cocks rubbed together.

“Stop talking,” Loki breathed, lowering his mouth to kiss Stephen again, his fingers running through his hair, messing it up, pulling him closer. His hips rocked and a sound came out of him that was pure lust. They hadn’t even bothered with mirror dimensions or glamor or any kind of spell to prevent them from being seen, they were just up against the wall, in plain view of anyone who wanted to get some air. Far from the thought taking Loki out of the moment, it made him even harder, made him ache for release.

Stephen knew what he was doing, though, the pressure of his hand just enough to drive Loki insane, but not quite enough to make him come. Yet. And that was fine, that was lovely, but suddenly, Loki wanted to make Stephen lose control. He wanted to make Stephen come first and he wanted to watch it. His face, that was. He didn’t get to see Stephen’s face when he came nearly enough.

So he left one hand buried in Stephen’s hair, but the other, he ran down his chest, down his stomach, and finally to where Stephen was jerking them both off. With a noise, a sort of cut-off, strangled sigh, he closed his hand around Stephen’s, pushing harder, applying more pressure on their cocks. There was just enough fluid leaking out that they were sliding against each other, and it felt so good, so fucking good, and the fact that now both their hands were involved was hot, it always drove Loki crazy.

Stephen’s mouth opened helplessly, a low moan coming out, and Loki shoved as much of his tongue in as he could, wanting to be closer, as close as possible, knowing he’d never be as close as his body was screaming at him to get.

Now that his hand was controlling their movement, he sped up, Stephen’s palm and cock hot against him, and the heat, the finish, was cresting in him, but all he had to do was get his lover there first. Stephen’s other hand wrapped around the back of Loki’s neck, his fingers twisting in Loki’s hair, like he was hanging on for dear life. Good.

Then Loki felt Stephen’s body change as his muscles all tightened. His cock twitched, spasmed, and Loki opened his eyes and broke their kiss so he could see Stephen’s face as he came hard, cum spurting in a thick stream onto Loki’s stomach and all over his shirt. And while under normal circumstances, seeing a good shirt ruined in this way would have annoyed him deeply, now it just sent him over the edge. He bit his lip to stop from crying out as he came too, soaking his clothes even further.

His mind fuzzed out and when it came back, his legs were shaking, his hand was still over Stephen’s on their softening cocks, and cum from both of them was starting to drip down over their fingers. Stephen’s eyes were still closed and Loki let his fingers ghost over his face, from his favorite piece of Stephen’s hair, now loose and hanging over his forehead, to his cheeks, to his lips, to his jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he murmured.

Stephen opened his eyes and their gazes met, and then he pressed himself against Loki and kissed him slowly. After a moment, he said quietly, as though they hadn’t just jerked each other off and were simply continuing an earlier conversation, “Why on Earth would I be offended at anything he said? I’m old and broke, and I still managed to land you.” Taken off-guard, Loki laughed, genuine and surprised, and Stephen ran his fingers through his hair. “Speaking of beautiful,” he said.

Loki’s brow furrowed as feeling overwhelmed him and all he could do was lean in and kiss Stephen again. But then, Stephen murmured into his lips, “We really have to go back in.”

“Fine,” Loki sighed. He flicked his fingers and the mess they’d made vanished. Then, he said, “And yes, you _are_ old and broke, so it’s lucky for you that neither youth nor wealth were qualities I was looking for in a lover.”

“You can call me your boyfriend.”

“Absolutely not.” A smile twitched at Loki’s mouth. “Anyway, you’re mine, Strange, regardless of what epithet we apply.”

With an answering smile, Stephen said, “That works for me, Odinson.”

The two of them remained there for another moment, simply looking at each other, Stephen’s fingers still in Loki’s hair and Loki feeling a little lost in Stephen’s eyes. But Stephen was right—they _did_ have to go back, and so pants were done back up, hair straightened, shirts smoothed out. There wasn’t much Stephen would be able to do about the way his face was still flushed. Well, Loki could cast a glamor on him, which he did for himself, just in case, but to be perfectly honest, he liked the way it looked on his human.

They went back inside. The opening remarks of the ceremony had already started and they tried to be as unobtrusive as possible as they took their seats at their table. Christine looked like she couldn’t decide whether to be amused or exasperated. She also looked like she suspected what had kept them.

As Loki shifted his chair so he could press his knee against Stephen’s, Stephen leaned over and murmured into his ear, in a voice so low that the words were more of a suggestion than actual sound, “Oh, and by the way, that was just prelude. Once I get you home…”

No need to finish the sentence. Loki swallowed and crossed one leg over the other, positioning his arm across his lap to hide the fact that he was getting hard. Stephen looked smug and Loki nearly glared at him. He knew _exactly_ what he was doing.

Then, Stephen’s hand found his and he interlaced his fingers with Loki’s. Loki leaned back in his chair, tightening his grip on Stephen’s hand. Even if he didn’t want to be here, even if he didn’t like doctors, he was proud of his wizard. And perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to tell him more often.

He squeezed Stephen’s hand and Stephen squeezed back. Not _now_ , obviously. Anyway, he thought Stephen knew. He hoped he did. Later, he’d say it more plainly.

Then again, _later_ , he hoped to not be doing much talking at all. The man on stage was still talking and Loki let a smile flicker across his face. He still didn’t want to be here. But at least now he had something to fantasize about until they could go home.


End file.
